In the morning Ater was gone, but the accusations didn't quiet down for weeks.
Of course, I couldn't stay inside forever, even if I wanted to - there was still a lot of work to do and every hand was necessary. Plus, my father said that hiding me from public sight would do more harm than good. In his words, 'I had to try to fit in again.'
And I have to say, looking out the window to that place another full day would likely drive me insane by then.
Yes, I worked, I had to, but I was glad of it. All around I could only see a clear blue sky and fields of gold or fields of light green. I was close to the earth and grass and all the animals I knew well. Cattle gave me disinterested glances, but that simply meant they took me as part of their home and I thought the same about them. The mischievous glint in a huge billy-goat's eyes seemed almost kindly when I thought of it as part of this place.
If only I could say the same about our neighbors.
No more hysterical accusations were yelled at us, not one pointed finger, but this was likely more because of people having their heads and hands full than them being accepting. For now, I was another worker. That isn't to say some still weren't unnecessarily spiteful, oh no! - they would not let me touch their sheep or come near, whispering something about a bad sign. I tried hard to laugh it off mentally, mark it as ridiculous, but truth was I myself wasn't sure about not being cursed.
Most tried not to bring it up too much and I was grateful for that small relief. They let me forget. But now, almost on the edge of society, what I couldn't forget was that I couldn't recall when was the last time I truly felt a part of them. The warmth of the ground, the color of the apples, the smell of hot milk and the view unobstructed by any branches, they were all home; but it was as though I was surrounded by strangers.
It was only now that I realized that I was never graced with a peer's genuine smile, without mockery. They were blank, polite only, unlike what they gave to each other. People acknowledged me, but perhaps only because my family did belong here and every member had a place and was each respected. I was too, possibly, otherwise they'd cast me aside entirely. But liked?
Suddenly it dawned on me nobody seemed to miss me during the long hours I studied at home alone (they thought), never asked for me, came of their own accord. I might've known the names of every neighborhood child and they knew mine, but unless I came to them first - tagged along a group - we didn't talk.
I took that was natural. And yet, how could I assume children and young adults - and those in-between - never needed to share their fears and secrets with an equal? If I wasn't ashamed, and trusted someone enough, I know I would - I wanted to. If I had the talent, I would pen it - but I had neither that nor a place to hide those after.
Maybe this was why my mind and memory have always been so clear and organized. If I couldn't reason with myself about the darkest things, then who would I tell?
I wondered what my life would've looked like without the tiny monster under my bed, a grown man - I think? - by now, if I still didn't have anyone else.
...
They from the forest didn't make an appearance or left any other messages again, and a bit of the tense expectation of their return faded every day. With that, though on some low level the dread stayed, I began to little-by-little think of the woods again.
Interestingly and a bit with horror I found out I just couldn't keep it out of my mind for long. The cold shadows seemed to call out - which, of course, was only in my mind, I knew, but that didn't mean the feeling disappeared.
Maybe I went there so many times that having to stay out or so long suddenly felt restricting now.
If I could, I would spend the whole day outside in the corn. It was a tiny, but tall forest on its own and unlike the other one this was all ours and all safe, and you could get lost, admittedly, but it also meant you were unseen. Unseen and as though in an embrace and part of a piece of nature that welcomed you, and never with red.
And while I tried to balance it all, it was not easy. Keeping out and keeping myself occupied away from our house, the one too close, proved to be an almost impossible task - if only because people were afraid to let me be too close and trying to be distracted without talking to anyone was hard enough!
Even if did have my family, they weren't always around and so I lived with my mind either in a constant buzz or blank. I found neither pleasant and the days were too long and tiring.
Then one day it rained again - thank god! But we had to stay inside and there was only so much to do. Of course, I could keep busy during the day well enough - but after all was said and done, I couldn't help sitting at the window and staring out at nothing in particular. I eyed the line of pines and caught myself on the lookout for signs of the bad color with equal parts fear and excitement. It seemed like it should be there, like it belonged there. It almost made me want to run out to let the brown wash off my hair and put it there myself.
I was so engrossed in the sight and thoughts that I didn't even hear footsteps approaching until someone pat my back. At that I turned so fast I nearly slammed into the wall.
I got to face my father, who - to my surprise - simply gave me a sympathetic smile.
"It could use red in there, no?" he said, sitting next to me on the bench.
"I don't..." I was startled at how he guessed my thoughts exactly.
"You were looking for a sight of Them."
It wasn't a question and I felt myself flushing, then going pale.
"D-dad, it's not like - I mean, I wasn't doing it-"
"-Consciously, I know. I never did either, and couldn't stay too far either."
In that moment I was equal parts terrified, confused and curious about where he was going. "Gwen, do you really think I don't see how dazed you are?" Oh, god. "At first, of course, we thought it was because of what happened... that would throw anyone off balance... but no. I know that look, and you had it for a while now."
Father rest head against the wall, facing the fireplace, and let out a heavy sigh.
How come I've never noticed the hue of his hair? I always thought it was black - but no. It was simply very dark, dark enough to pass as that, but in the firelight...
"You weren't in it lately, were you?"
At that I clutched my chest and just opened and closed mouth, not a sound coming out. He knew. He KNEW?! How- but foremost, he knew and he did nothing about it, why?!
He noted my shock and covered mouth not to let the amused snort out, but then he grew more serious.
"You hid it very well, yes, but I never expected you to stay off the border, so I saw the signs. Before us they couldn't... I couldn't either. And you're my daughter, really! You just have it in you - we won't be content in the village! Not while young, anyway," he gave a mirthless laugh, locking hands behind his head, and then gave me a sideway glance.
"But you crossing the line wasn't why we got the message, was it? They would not simply stop tolerating us two taking some, eh, secret strolls, yes?"
Sheer terror came almost in a second. I involuntarily glanced outside, then back at him.
He was waiting, looking on me almost without blinking. The intense stare made me even more uncomfortable. Rain was thundering against the roof and window, but the silence inside was heavy.
I tried to read his expression, but didn't manage. I probably just made myself even more obvious. But what was there that he didn't know?!
I suddenly saw him in a entirely new light. So my father had the same struggle when he was my age? Did he too stand on a stump and always won, did he too have to try so hard not to think of it? Was THIS why we still aways had plenty of dry wood and food that scarcely grew at the edge of a forest?
And he let me do the same. So we WERE truly an exception to the rule, or was he just that good at sneaking out? True, I personally never saw any signs, but now I at once understood the smile he gave me and how he never asked about why I came dirty with mud or with tears in clothing or leaves in hair and at once felt immensely grateful and sorry for him, because that meant he was possibly the only person who would ever understand.
Father leaned forward and beckoned me to do the same. Head between shoulders I did so, helplessly looking up at him.
"What have you done?" he asked calmly.
"I- I've... " I took a deep breath, trying to stay that way too. "Promise you won't be angry."
He sighed and then half-nodded, half-shrugged. "Can I even be? ... spill it."
I glanced out the door to see if mother was still busy with dinner and then quickly sorted out my thoughts and then talked. I told him how I discovered the underside of my bed was occupied- how long he stayed- how we talked- how he was my best friend- and how I continued to travel into the forest and as how he came as well (at that father drew a sharp breath) and then, with cheeks red, I somehow stuttered out how, some time ago, we got a little closer than before...
"It just happened once, but then... then They did that to aut's dog..."
He shut eyes and slowly brought a hand up to his forehead, not saying a word for a long time. I just waited, head bent and with a heavy heart.
"Oh my God. Well, I did not see THAT coming."
I almost laughed at the understated reaction and was sort of relieved as well. "So... what do you think they meant?"
"It may not mean anything apart from what we already guessed."
Then he abruptly straightened, glancing at the door, then placed a hand on my shoulder. "Gwen, your mother must not know. About me or you and the least about... uh. What's his name?"
"Ater," I barely whispered. "Aterulmen."
"Right. Hell would break loose. I may be able to explain, but it needs time - I know how to."
"I understand."
Father exhaled, then pat my head.
"I knew you would." He then eyed me from head to toe with a sort of sad smile. "Ah, Gwen... you grew so much. You're a real young la... er... woman already."
I snickered at how he cut himself off at 'lady'.
"The next time you are in there... send him my regards. And that if I spot him anywhere near our house, I am laying traps around it," he finished sternly, but couldn't help grinning right after at my outraged expression.